Dog Days

I sit, cold winter outside

warmed by the embers of dying coals

The black dog lies his head on my lap 

beautiful hazelnut eyes with cataract veils

As the cruel arthritis bows his once strong heather moor leaping legs

He shuffles down a painful dance of left then right, repeat, to a position, prone supine, 

cry my heart aches

Still his tail wags a rhythmic thud of a bass beat at the slightest touch of a hand or merest kind word 

Grateful, for the contact of living, our unspoken love for each other saturates the space

He is my best friend who asks for nothing, but is ever grateful whether the gift be great or small

We sit as Autumn and Winter of our lives

The green shoots of Spring and heady heat of Summer fade at a pace into the past 

the doppler sound of a train traveling down a distant track.

My hand on his chest feels his strong heart beating 

whilst I pray for strength that soon

in the not too distant future mine will recover from being broken.